by Sally Warner
“Yeah,” Skye teased. “We can have a tofu party.”
“I’ve eased up,” Gran protested. “Admit it.”
It was true, Skye thought; last weekend, Gran had even gone so far as to buy chips – multigrain, salt-free, and baked, not fried, of course – and soda, or some fruity drink a little like soda.
“Okay, I admit it,” Skye said, looking at the living-room clock. “But we’d better get going, Gran, ’cause I’m supposed to meet up with my friends exactly twelve minutes from now.”
“Oh, no,” Gran said, her eyes wide as she checked the clock’s time against her wristwatch. “That clock’s running fifteen minutes slow, Skye. It must need winding.”
“It’s slow?” Skye exclaimed, squawking the two words. “Hurry up, Gran – or I’m gonna have to walk into that stupid dance all by myself!”
Skye hesitated alone near the wide-open gymnasium doors, wishing she’d asked Gran to turn the Toyota around and take her straight back to Eucalyptus Terrace. Her fellow art jerks must already be thinking she’d decided to stay home; they sure weren’t waiting for her in front of the cafeteria, the way Pip said they would be.
The inside of the school gymnasium looked golden from where Skye was standing. Under the big wall clock at the end of the room was the banner the art activities kids had made saying “We Won!” but someone had had to add a small, red, last-minute “Almost,” just between the “We” and the “Won.”
Uh-oh, Skye thought, taking a step back. Amelia Earhart had lost the Homecoming game to Thomas Alva Edison. This was not good.
“Come on in, honey,” a committee mom said, peeking out from the doorway. “Don’t be shy about being here alone. It’s not that kind of party.”
“I know,” Skye said, taking another step back. “I heard.”
“There you are,” Amanda said, popping out from behind the woman.
“Finally,” Pip and Matteo chorused. They appeared to be attached to Amanda’s side by invisible strips of Velcro, and when they dragged Skye into the gymnasium, she joined the cluster.
“Have you seen them yet?” Skye asked, shouting to be heard above the voices and music that swirled around them. “What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Pip said, sounding both excited and scared. “Everyone’s talking about the drawings, though. We did it!”
“Hey, Skye-chick,” a voice said, and then she heard the art jerks inhale as if they were one person.
Skye turned around. “Hey,” she said cautiously, seeing Aaron, Cord, Danko, Kee, and the two bad ballerinas standing in front of her, their toes turned out as usual. Kee looked troubled, staring down at the scuffed gymnasium floor as if there were a message hidden there.
“So, you think you’re, like, this really hot artist, huh?” Aaron asked Skye, sneering. “Making us lose the game.”
“You are so gonna get it,” Taylor told Skye, and she smiled – though it was not a pretty sight.
Skye could not think of what to say, because–how had they known so quickly that she was the one who had done those drawings? And how had she made them lose the game?
And, most important of all, how was she “gonna get it?”
“Skye’s drawings are great,” Pip said, trying to defend her. “They looked more like you guys than your team photos did, that’s for sure.”
“Shut up, pansy,” Aaron said, not looking at him.
“Stop saying that,” Amanda told him, but this time she could barely squeak out her objection, she was so scared.
“I was talking to Skye-chick, here,” Aaron said. “We got something to show her.”
Melissa nudged Taylor. They looked excited, and they both stared at Skye with hungry eyes.
“What?” Skye asked, in spite of herself.
“C’mon,” Aaron said, laughing. “It’s over by the clock. Come see for yourself!”
“And bring your pathetic little posse,” Melissa added.
The two groups shuffled over toward the big wall clock, threading their way through the mob of laughing, dancing kids, who seemed oblivious to this new drama that was unfolding. “At least we’re in a public place,” Pip muttered.
“Yeah,” Amanda squeaked. “He can’t actually hurt Skye. But I wish I’d stayed home,” she added softly. “I’m scared!”
“Skye’s the one who should be scared,” Matteo pointed out, sounding matter-of-fact – and even a little relieved, Skye thought. Not that she blamed Matteo for feeling that way.
“Up there,” Aaron said. “Whaddya think, Skye-chick? How do you like it?”
Skye forced herself to raise her eyes to where Aaron was pointing.
High above her head, drawings of Pip, Amanda, Matteo, Jamila, and Maddy were taped to the wall.
They weren’t anywhere near the worst ones of them she had done. In fact, they were kind of okay. But–
“Skye did those,” a surprised Amanda announced to no one in particular.
“Yeah, and there are plenty more where they came from,” Aaron said in a threatening way, as if reading Skye’s thoughts. “Skye knows what I mean. Just wait.”
Kee cleared his throat; he looked embarrassed, Skye thought dully.
“The custodian let us into the art room after the game,” Cord said, grinning. “Aaron told him he’d left something important in there.”
“Too bad about that lame-o retarded brother of yours back in Mexico,” Aaron said, watching Skye closely to see – and enjoy – her reaction.
They had her sketchbook.
Dear Scott, You can go to bed now, because I am safe and sound back at Gran’s house, and the dance is over. I hate those guys, too, even Kee–more than ever, in fact, because somehow, they got into the art activities room after the game to find out who did those drawings of them, and they took something of mine that I accidentally left there. (Oops.)
Love, Skye
19
After the Dance
“Oops.”
That was putting it mildly, Skye thought dully the morning after the dance as she lay in bed, pretending to be asleep long past the time Gran usually roused her. Skye was almost more miserable than she had been in her entire life. This was right up there with that phone call after Scott’s accident.
Back then, she had been miserable mixed with angry, Skye confessed silently.
This was something else altogether. This was miserable mixed with – what?
Embarrassment. Dread. Loss.
Skye couldn’t stand thinking about the loss of her beloved sketchbook – the last in what had been a whole series of losses. The thought of her own private sketchbook–her sketchbook! – being in the hands of the mean football guys and the bad ballerinas – sneering Melissa! patronizing Taylor! –made Skye want to curl up and die.
What were they doing with the sketchbook right now, besides prying into her innermost feelings and reading about her problems? Laughing at her? Passing around the pages? Or ripping out the pages, more likely, getting her drawings photocopied so they could plaster them all over the school on Monday morning?
Skye felt her face grow hot at the very idea of everyone–especially her new friends, and Ms. O’Hare – seeing the worst of those drawings. Ms. O’Hare, Amanda, Jamila, Pip, Matteo, and Maddy – especially Maddy – would be so hurt.
And she really, really liked them all now.
Skye felt like throwing up, only she didn’t have the energy to get out of bed.
What she wanted most was to run back home to Albuquerque–only there wasn’t much home there now. Her house was in an unrecognizable uproar, her parents were fighting more than ever, her brother was changed – maybe forever – and her best friend apparently had forgotten all about her.
“Skye?” Gran asked, rapping gently on Skye’s bedroom door. “It’s time to get up, darling. It’s ten thirty.”
“Five more minutes,” Skye begged. That usually worked, except on schooldays.
“I know you had a wonderful time last night,” Gran said, ins
istent, “but rise and shine.”
“Please,” Skye mumbled from under her covers. “I didn’t have a wonderful time last night. It was the worst night of my life.”
Gran was instantly at Skye’s side. She plopped down on the bed and gently pried open one of her granddaughter’s squinched-shut eyes. “Talk,” she said. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” Skye said, turning her head to the wall.
“Talk,” Gran said again, but it sounded more like an order this time. “It’s important that you tell me what’s troubling you, darling. I never had a daughter, but I know this much, at least.”
“I can’t. It’s too terrible,” Skye said to the wall.
Instantly, she could feel her grandmother stiffen – as she probably imagined all kinds of hideous Law & Order-type things happening at the dance, Skye realized, guilt-stricken. “Don’t worry, I’m okay,” she reassured Gran hastily. “It’s just that – some kids stole my sketchbook.”
“Your sketchbook?” Gran said, unable to hide her relief.
“See, you didn’t even know I had one, did you?” Skye said, sitting upright in bed. “And, it’s, like the most important thing in my life! It’s the only thing I have any control over, anyway. And now it’s gone. Worse than gone.”
“How could it be worse than gone?” Gran asked, puzzled.
“Those kids are gonna use it against me,” Skye explained softly. “Just to hurt my new friends’ feelings, and make them hate me.”
“But – why would anyone do such a thing?” Gran asked. “And how could they do it? What’s in your sketchbook, for heaven’s sake?”
“Private stuff I wrote,” Skye whispered. “And drawings. And some of them are not-so-nice drawings, too, ’cause I was so mad about everything at first.”
“Such as?” Gran asked, smoothing Skye’s tangled hair back from her face.
“Such as Scott being so stupid and having that accident,” Skye said, shrugging away Gran’s hand. “And about Mom and Dad fighting all the time, and then making me move here. No offense,” she added.
“None taken,” Gran said, smiling a little. “Go on.”
“Well, if that’s not bad enough, I lost all my Albuquerque friends, too,” Skye continued. “Especially Hana, who never even writes me anymore. And I lost the chance to start middle school with all the kids I grew up with! But I could always draw, at least. Nobody could take that away – until now.”
“So you lost a sketchbook full of private writings and hurtful drawings that you did because you felt so angry and helpless,” Gran said, trying to summarize.
“They aren’t all hurtful,” Skye said. “Just the early ones. The drawings got nicer once I got to know everyone a little better.”
Even Scott, she thought – and that had been the biggest surprise of all.
“It’s kind of like everyone I met here became more real to me each time I drew them,” Skye tried to explain. “Even the bad kids, in a way.”
“So there are nice drawings, too,” Gran said, attempting to focus on the positive, McPhee-style.
“Yeah, but my new friends will never know that,” Skye said, shaking her head. “Because these kids are probably gonna plaster the school with the terrible drawings. And I’ll lose all my new friends, and even worse, hurt their feelings. And they probably all have syndromes, too. Just like Maddy and me.”
“But Skye,” Gran said, “I don’t understand. Forget the ‘syndromes’ for a minute, whatever in the world you’re talking about there. Why do these kids have it in for you? What did you ever do to them?”
Uh-oh, Skye thought, here we go. “I – I guess I kind of hurt some of their feelings yesterday,” she admitted, unable to look her grandmother in the eye. “Not by accident, exactly, but – I just got carried away. See, me and my friends were trying to get even with those kids for picking on us all the time, so I drew girly pictures of four of the football players, and we sneaked them into the Homecoming newspaper. And everyone saw them at the game.”
“Oh, dear,” Gran said to herself, before turning back to Skye. “So, taking the sketchbook was these kids’ way of getting even?” she asked.
“I guess,” Skye said, unable to look at her.
“Hmm. There’s a whole lot of getting even going on,” Gran observed. “But none of it has worked, has it?”
“And now I’m gonna have to move,” Skye said, following her own train of thought. “Just when I was thinking about maybe staying here in Sierra Madre the whole year!”
“Staying here, with me?” Gran asked, astonished.
“Don’t bother saying no, or anything,” Skye mumbled.
“You don’t even have to. I didn’t really mean it. I know I’d just get in your way.”
“Darling, you never get in my way,” Gran said, shaking her head. “You’re just about the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Why, you’re better than vitamin B!”
Hope flared for Skye, then died in almost the same moment. “But I can’t stay,” she said softly. “Because of hurting all my new friends’ feelings next week. They’ll hate me too much.”
“Well,” Gran said, “you’re just going to have to do something about that, aren’t you? And no, I don’t really have any suggestions. But you’ll come up with something.”
“I don’t think so, Gran,” Skye said sadly.
Gran leaned over and planted a warm kiss on Skye’s tear-stained cheek. “Up you get,” she told Skye. “That’s always the first step, my darling. And then hop into a nice hot shower, then we’ll get some protein into you. And then you’ll be able to think better.”
Skye wriggled deeper under her covers. “Can’t I just – “
“No, you cannot,” Gran said, springing to her feet in a surprisingly youthful way. “Up, up, up!”
“So, you can come over tomorrow afternoon at three?” Skye asked Maddy over the phone that evening – lucky, innocent Maddy, who hadn’t been at the dance the night before. Maddy was the last kid on Skye’s list of people to call. “Amanda’s coming, and so are Pip and Matteo and Jamila.”
“I guess,” Maddy said, sounding reluctant. “I was going to watch a rerun of the meerkat show at four P.M., though. Can we watch it at your house?”
“If there’s time,” Skye assured her. If you’re still talking to me by then, she added silently.
“And it’s a party, right?” Maddy asked, cheering up.
“It’s like a party,” Skye told her. “I really need you to be here, Maddy.”
“Okay,” Maddy said. “If you need me, I’ll be there-because you’re my best friend, Skye, and I would never let you down.”
20
Something Like Okay
“Rise and shine, Skye,” Gran said on Sunday morning, repeating the previous morning’s gentle command.
“But I was up really late last night, planning what I’m gonna say to my friends,” Skye mumbled from underneath her covers. “I even wrote it all out, like a script.”
“Well, should I tell him to leave?” Gran asked in a brisk, cheerful voice.
Him?
Skye sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding. “Who’s here?” she asked.
“You’ll see,” Gran said – and she was smiling.
“So here it is,” Kee Matthews said ten minutes later in Gran’s living room as he handed Skye her sketchbook, which was complete, except for the few drawings that had been taped to the gymnasium wall on Friday night. “Not that Aaron probably even knows yet that I swiped it back from him,” he added.
“He’s going to be so mad,” Skye said, admiring Kee’s courage. “But he should never have taken it in the first place.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have made us look so dumb in that Homecoming newspaper, either,” Kee said, frowning. “It was a really big deal.”
“I know,” Skye admitted softly.
“And you, like, totally ruined everything,” Kee continued, relentless. “Aaron says that’s why he dropped the ball in the fourth quar
ter.”
Even angry he was cute, Skye thought, in spite of herself. “I’m sorry,” she told him. “But you guys were being so – “
“I know, I know,” Kee interrupted, obviously embarrassed.
“Well, but how come you hang out with them, then?” Skye asked.
Kee shrugged one narrow shoulder. “I dunno,” he admitted. “I might have to rethink that, now – whether I want to or not. But you gotta hang with someone, don’t you? And they can be okay – when there aren’t any girls around, anyway. We have fun.”
“But what about Aaron picking on Pip all the time?” Skye argued. “Pip’s not a girl, he’s another guy. And he’s an artist. He’s pretty good, in fact. And you, of all people, should understand about that.”
“Why me of all people?” Kee asked, frowning.
“’Cause you’re an artist, too,” Skye said shyly. “I like those drawings you gave me, Kee.”
“What drawings?” Kee asked, a look of total incomprehension on his face. “Oh,” he said suddenly, and he smiled.
“What?” Skye asked. “Who did them, if it wasn’t you?”
“Danko,” Kee said, stunning Skye with the one word. “It had to be him.”
“Who?”
“You heard me,” Kee said. “It had to be Danko. He kind of likes you, see, and he loves to draw, only hardly anybody knows it. But I told him a few weeks ago about how you were secretly drawing everyone. After I saw you that time on the steps,” Kee reminded her.
“But – but – but how come Danko’s not taking art, if he likes it so much?” Skye asked, sputtering. “And – he likes me? And how come he just goes along with Aaron and Cord when they call Pip names and everything?”
“Maybe he doesn’t like Pip, I dunno,” Kee said, shrugging. “You can’t like everyone. Or maybe it’s because of Danko’s brothers. His dad, too, ’cause his dad’s a real hard-nose about stuff like guys taking art. All Mr. Marshall cares about is sports, and now Danko can’t even show him the Homecoming newspaper when he gets home from his business trip, thanks to you. And that was, like, his only thing.”